Hiding It
by Alseides
Summary: Bobby Drake grows up, a little too fast.


Bobby:  
  
Adulthood came early. Oh, no one expected him to act like an adult. No one demanded that he be more responsible, take charge of his life, anything. Bobby figured it out all on his own, one day in the middle of chemistry, when the chlorophyll solution froze in his hands.  
  
You didn't talk about it, of course. Except that everyone talked about it. His parents read about mutants in the newspaper. His teachers held special lectures in class; "We want you to feel comfortable about this. We don't want your community to feel like a dangerous place. We want to treat you like adults." We want to you to own up if you are a mutant. Bobby didn't talk about it.  
  
Finding out about Xavier's school was a bit of luck on a day spent in bed with a cold. His hands were shaking as he read the blurb on the website and sent an email to the address given. It only took an hour to defrost the keyboard, and Mom was late getting home, so everything was fine. He was getting better at controlling it. Still. He would be glad to get away.  
  
Broaching the subject at the dinner table was tricky. You didn't just say, "I want to go to boarding school, and please pass the asparagus." Bobby emphasized the one-to-one teacher student ratio and brought up his grades. Maybe med school afterwards, if he kept it up? His parents bought it, smiling, proud of their good kid. His brother gave him a dirty look, and stepped on his foot while they were washing the dishes after dinner.  
  
A drive to the school, and he told his parents he loved it on first sight. And he did, in a way. He was careful not to let himself get upset when Mom hugged him goodbye. She'd notice if her sweater iced over. And then they were in the car, and he was waving, and finally, finally, Bobby Drake was alone with other mutants.  
  
***  
  
That was the easy part. After that, he moved in and began classes of an entirely different sort than he'd ever taken before. It was training, now, instead of schooling. He wasn't being groomed for life as an accountant, or whatever. Bobby was freezing things right and left, in front of people, and they smiled when he did it.  
  
It shook him to the core. Bobby hadn't realized how hard he'd been trying to keep it hidden. Jean nodded approvingly one sunny morning in April when he successfully sent a rope of ice slicing through the air between himself and a tree. "Good job!" she said cheerfully. "Your control is getting better, Bobby."  
  
He could have floated away on the praise alone.  
  
***  
  
So he found friends. St. John - Pyro, really, it was the only name that fit - was a fast friend. He seemed to see something in the opposites of their powers that Bobby didn't. They studied together, sneaked into the kitchen for midnight candy raids together, tied the doorknobs of the girls' dorm rooms together one night so no one could get out. Of course, they'd forgotten about Kitty, and the girls' vengeance had been wrathful. But no one got hurt, and no one got expelled. Something relaxed in Bobby when he realized that the X-men weren't going to send him home for messing around. After that, it was anything he and Pyro could get away with.  
  
Johnny lit fires, literally, under people's seats in class. Bobby froze kids' tongues to their ice cream spoons, and blinked innocently when they tried to yell at him around tongues stuck to metal. He discovered that he could get cell phones to quit working by lowering the temperature of their electronics. Pyro broke a ton of beakers in lab, without ever touching any of them. He just set tiny fires in them, superheating them, and let other people pick them up, shriek, and drop them. It got to be a joke. No one would pick up a beaker for a while, and experiments were conducted in other containers - pots from the kitchen, hairspray bottles, whatever was around, until Pyro finally got bored with the game.  
  
They weren't the only ones to experiment. But Bobby liked to watch the sparkle in Pyro's eyes when he got an idea. He found himself trying to match that gleam, trying to play tricks that would make him feel that same dark joy. And it wasn't ever quite like that for him. Bobby was too nice, and he knew it. Guilt tripped him up on the best games.  
  
But one other thing kept him with Pyro, month after month. Pyro never had cold hands. Bobby tried not to be obvious about it. He loved the feel of them. Every so often, Johnny would throw an arm over Bobby's shoulder, or their hands would close on a doorknob at the same time. And Bobby would feel the warmth radiating from his friend, the dry, almost sandpapery skin of Pyro's palms rubbing the back of his hand. He was sure Pyro had no idea what effect he had on Bobby. Which was good, because Bobby wasn't sure what the effect Johnny had on him was. Or well. He knew. It was like being a mutant all over again.  
  
Hide it, Bobby, hide it.  
  
***  
  
When Marie came, Bobby found the perfect escape. Here was a girl who needed desperately to be loved, but who couldn't be touched. He was nice to her. He listened, was affectionate and supportive and understanding. He was everything she could have asked for in a boyfriend.  
  
He was a walking lie, and he knew it, and he hated himself. Sure, he loved Rogue. But he was glad they couldn't touch, couldn't kiss, couldn't do anything serious. Because that would be carrying the lie too far? All Bobby knew was that he wanted Rogue to be happy, but if she'd been any other girl, he'd have never gone even this far.  
  
So he held hands with her in class, and it was nice enough, but the gloves hid the warmth of her hands. She had a beautiful smile, she really did, and he wanted to let her know, but Bobby couldn't put the words into his mouth. Rogue was nice to everyone, and he was nice to her, and everything was nice, but he had the feeling no one was being honest. He could tell it wasn't enough for her when he found her crying in her room on the day everyone went to the beach.  
  
"You could have gone," he tried, sitting on her bed. She was curled up like a fern in sweatpants, sweatshirt, glove, and scarf. She had to be sweltering in all that. Surreptitiously he chilled the room a little.  
  
"Bobby, go away," she said into the pillow, hair covering her face. "You don't have to come talk to me every time I don't come play." Her accent was very thick.  
  
He sat there, miserable, wondering what words might change her mind. "Marie . . . you're careful. You're always careful. You can't live like this, always-"  
  
"I can't!" she exploded, hauling herself into a sitting position and glaring at him. "What do you think, it's fun to sit around dressed like a nun watching everyone else have fun? You think I like being careful? You think I enjoy spending my whole life terrified I'm gonna touch somebody? You honestly think I can just GO SWIMMING?! Bobby-" Her eyes grew deep and distant. "You're a lucky one. Your power is so clean and perfect you could be a poster boy for mutants. You don't-"  
  
"I don't understand?" he shot back, yelling, knowing it was stupid and pointless and mad anyway. "Damn it, Rogue. My life isn't perfect."  
  
"I didn't say it was," she said with disgust. "I said your power was. Get out of my room."  
  
He stared at her, words leaping to mind, none of them right.  
  
"Get out!" she cried, shoving him off the bed with her gloved hands. Neither of them missed the way she checked to make sure no wrist showed between the gloves and the sweatshirt.  
  
Bobby left then, heading for the kitchen and some ice cream. His favorite food. What the hell was he doing, anyway? He wondered if he really cared about her at all. Bobby pulled a carton of mint chocolate chip from the freezer and sat down at the table. If he really cared, he decided, driving a spoon into the frozen mass hard enough to bend it, he'd have stayed home from the beach in the first place.  
  
***  
  
When Wolverine arrived, Bobby and Rogue were talking again. She seemed to take him back more out of pity than anything else. Neither of them talked about it. Bobby was glad, though. He'd gotten used to her being around. In a way, it was like one of his and Pyro's games, trying to see how close he could get to her before she yelled at him.  
  
He was very close to kissing her when Logan walked in the door with a cowboy hat, a leather jacket, and dirt under his nails. Logan shaved infrequently. Bobby remembered him vaguely from his last visit. It had been a while, and they hadn't exactly known each other before.  
  
He watched as Rogue abandoned him for Logan, forgetting Bobby as easily as a receipt for cigarettes. She went up to Logan, hope and smiles on her face, all but climbing into his lap. He seemed happy enough to see her. But Bobby saw the look of pain on Logan's face. It had nothing to do with Rogue's power, and everything to do with her feelings. He extricated himself from her - carefully and gently, but nonetheless - the minute Jean appeared at the head of the stairs. They went off their separate ways, and Bobby didn't dare go after Rogue. She had a crush on Logan, then. He felt a twinge of something. It sure as hell wasn't anger. He was glad Rogue had found somebody. He'd just been making her feel loved until she found the . . . what did they call it, Mr. Right? Right. Keeping her warm? But it wasn't like she could have had any kind of relationship with Logan, anyway. Why was he fixating on this? Bobby went to find some ice cream.  
  
***  
  
"Doesn't anybody sleep at night in this place?" Logan said as he walked into the kitchen a few days later.   
  
Bobby looked up from his ice cream. Heat rushed up his face. "No," he said, wondering if he should find an excuse for being awake. No, he wasn't going to apologize for consciousness. The day he did that, he could hand in his Sentient Beings membership card.   
  
He watched as Logan cast about for something. Why was he blushing? Logan wasn't going to yell at him for being out of bed. Bobby was embarrassed at being caught. Or, he was embarrassed at something at least. Logan hadn't shaved in a day or two. Bobby wondered idly what Logan's hands felt like, and had to hide his face behind the ice cream. He wasn't cool enough to make a move. But oh, he wanted to.  
  
"Is there any beer in here?" Wolverine held the fridge door open.  
  
"This is a school," Bobby said, muffling a laugh. Hysteria edged into it. Hide it, Bobby.   
  
Wolverine slammed the door shut. "Well, is there anything besides chocolate milk?"  
  
"There's soda in the cupboard," Bobby offered, turning back to his ice cream. Cookies and cream - proof that the world was a happy place. He was fine. He could handle unshaven Wolverine in his kitchen. He could ignore the hard-on he was getting under the table.  
  
Wolverine rummaged around in the extensive cupboards until he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a bottle of Dr. Pepper and flipped the cap off. Bobby found himself watching out of the corner of his eyes. Logan paused, then held out the bottle wordlessly.  
  
Bobby took the bottle, just missing Logan's hands. He swallowed hard as the kitchen dropped a few degrees. He blew across the mouth of the bottle, giving it an even chill just short of ice. He was sort of pleased with how easy it'd gotten. He handed the bottle back, holding it at the neck where Logan's hands had to brush his. He stared at Logan, serious as hell.  
  
Wolverine ignored him, grabbing it lower down and swallowing half of it in one gulp. Bobby guessed it didn't make up for beer, judging from the face Logan made.   
  
"So," Logan began, leaning against the counter. "Do you -" He froze.  
  
"What?" asked Bobby, confused. Logan motioned him to silence.  
  
And then the safe little world of Graymalkin Lane exploded into snipers and night-vision goggles and Bobby was running for Rogue and Pyro in the darkened hallways. Later he could only recall the vaguest pieces of that night.  
  
The drive to Boston and his parents' house was much more memorable. Scott's car was better than he'd expected, anally clean and in exquisite condition, but Bobby supposed it was like Scott to get the best and then not use it to its full potential. Pyro and Rogue and Logan and him all in the car, going to his parents, with nothing but danger behind them. Bobby was horrified inside. His world was collapsing in a grand way. The school wasn't safe anymore. It had been his sanity check, these past three years. And now he would be back to hiding full time, hiding everything about himself, and the thought sent stars dancing in front of his eyes.  
  
***  
  
So the whole mutant coming-out went better than expected. Oh, his brother called the cops on him, and Pyro let loose, finally, going nuts, going mad, going . . . evil. But overall, Bobby thought it went well.  
  
Who was he kidding?  
  
***  
  
A month later, everything had blown over. School was back in session. Rogue was no longer moping over Logan, possibly because Logan was still hanging around. Pyro was gone. Bobby found that he missed him, missed little things like the way Pyro would flip his damn lighter open and shut endlessly. Missed watching him thumb it open and snap it shut with a practiced flick of his wrist. He kept his mouth shut, though. Pyro had gone over to the bad guys.  
  
Bobby missed him. Not enough to sign up with Magneto, though.  
  
He wandered out to the lake one day after Professor Xavier's class. Xavier's classes always left him with a desire to empty his mind, precisely because he was supposed to be thinking. Bobby went past the boathouse and the dock, watching the grey horizon. It would probably rain in an hour or two. He had only a windbreaker over his t-shirt and jeans. But one thing Bobby was used to was cold.  
  
The ducks were out in swarms, or duck-herds, or whatever they called it. Pyro would have had something to feed them. Bobby had only a butterscotch. He didn't figure ducks were into hard candy. The lake water lapped the shore, washing the silvery gravel.  
  
This time when Logan walked up, Bobby didn't blush. He knew what he wanted. He stood up to meet him. Logan opened his mouth to say something, and Bobby kissed it instead, leaning his body against Logan's, balancing his hands against Logan's arms.  
  
Logan shoved him away unceremoniously, dumping him on the gravel. "What the fuck are you pulling, kid?" he said, glaring down at Bobby.  
  
Bobby's chin came up. "What's the matter, Logan? Don't know how to deal with a lover you could actually touch?" The words were brave, but his heart was racing.  
  
Logan's eyes widened, angry beyond words. He yanked Bobby up by his shirt front and paused. Bobby wondered if he was about to be gutted, but no. Logan's control was too good. Instead, he let Bobby go, pushing him away again. "Get lost, kid."  
  
Bobby sat down on the gravel and glanced at the far side of the lake. "Logan," he said, not knowing what to say.  
  
He turned back to find Wolverine looking down at him. "Kid," Logan said again. "Learn to masturbate." He walked away along the shoreline.   
  
Bobby stared after him, wordless with frustration and embarrassment.  
  
***  
  
The days passed. Bobby counted each one, marking them off on his calendar. It had been Johnny's at one point. Bobby had all his old stuff, everything except the one thing that was unique to Pyro: his lighter. Bobby went to the store one day and bought a lighter, and felt dumb afterward.  
  
He carried it around, though, never using it, never pulling it out, only fingering it in his pocket.  
  
Rogue and he drifted apart, and he was glad. Bobby had tried being nice to her to cheer her up, and ended up as her boyfriend - she was never his girl - and the further it got, the more evil he felt. So this was better, really. Rogue hung out with Logan every chance she got, and for his own part, Logan didn't brush her off anymore.  
  
And Bobby continued to be the good student, the nice boy, the kid in class whose notes you could always borrow, who was never absent. He went to all the parties, was friendly to everyone he knew, welcomed the new students, introduced them to the tricks and hiding places he and Pyro knew. Bobby had a smile for every person he met. He was the poster boy for mutants.  
  
He hated every minute of it. He didn't talk about it.  
  
Hide it, Bobby. Hide it.  
  
***  
  
The End. 


End file.
